


Like Stars Against the Sun

by azephirin



Category: NCIS
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Obedience, Rivalry, Safe Sane and Consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-12
Updated: 2011-01-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>My body leaves no scar on you and never will.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Stars Against the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine, which makes me sadder than you can possibly imagine. Summary and title from "[True Love Leaves No Traces](http://www.leonardcohen.com/music.cgi?album_id=7&song_id=1)," by Leonard Cohen.

“I did not give you permission to move,” Ziva says mildly, closing the bathroom door soundlessly behind her. She’s barefoot, braless, wearing nothing but a pair of dark red panties and her long hair, which tumbles in a dark fall around her shoulders and down her back. Tony takes a moment to look at her—it’s not worth being subtle as his eyes sweep her from head to toe, letting him drink her in like good whiskey down his throat.

He shrugs and stretches. “It wasn’t very comfortable. I got”—he pauses—“stiff.”

Ziva rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you did. Now return to the position I requested.”

Tony stretches again and reaches back to wrap the fingers of one hand around one of the elegant black headboard slats. He keeps the other hand flung out to one side, though, in direct contravention of Ziva’s earlier instructions. “But, see, Ziva, it wasn’t really a request—more like an order. And I really think there’s room for negotiation, especially since it wouldn’t be appropriate for me to take orders from a junior officer—”

“I see.” She touches two fingers to the inside of his raised wrist. “But I think,” she says, tracing her fingertips down his arm, circling on the inside of his elbow, a stimulus that both makes him want to squirm, ticklish, and arch up, from an altogether different variety of sensation, “that you enjoy taking orders of this sort”—fingertips crossing his shoulder, drawing the line of his clavicle—“but you insist upon battling me,” she continues, and spreads her hand lightly over his throat, “so that I won’t think you are weak.” She runs her thumb over Tony’s jugular, and he swallows.

He brings his other hand up to the headboard and spreads his legs, the position she’d left him in.

Ziva smiles and bends to kiss him; the ends of her hair brush his skin. “Am I right,” she says, but it doesn’t sound like a question.

“Yeah,” he answers, and he really wants to bury his hands in her hair, tangle it around his fingers, but they’ll get to that later. “Also, though”—she kisses him again, and he can taste the counoise they’d been drinking—“also,” he says, “I just like messing with you.”

“I know,” she says, and covers his hands with hers.


End file.
